A funny fat and rounded fellow
In his tunneled cozy home,
Heard a tap, tap, tap, tap tapping
Someone at his front door rapping.
“Well!” He grumbled at the sound
That woke him up there underground.

He stretched and took his groundhog time
Yawning as he rambled round.
Tied his robe around his middle
“No doubt another winter riddle.”
The town again has come to call
In funny hats coal black and tall.

The groundhog opens up his door
But just a crack to see who’s there..
Just in case it is a trick
(The big bad wolf once threw a brick.)
He sees the Mayor’s wind chaffed nose
It’s big and red and almost froze.

“Hello there chap.” The Mayor shouts.
“We’ve come to ask for your advice.
Come out and take a look around
See if your shadow can be found.”
The same each year with much elation
The crowd awaits. Anticipation.

“Yes, yes,.” He nods his groundhog head
He tries to fake a little smile.
The band begins to play a tune
“You know I usually sleep till noon.
But yes, of course I’ll take a peek
And give you my weather critique.”

He steps outdoors and turns about
His shadow fat beneath his form..
From the crowd he hears a groan
A growing large, unhappy moan..
“Get the groundhog!” They shout together,
“Rodents can’t predict the weather!”

With that he scurries underground.
Away from that unhappy crowd.
That mob and six more weeks of season
Seems a good and solid reason
To pull the covers overhead
And spend that time asleep in bed!

03/21/2004